Guild of Heroes
by Thought Monger
Summary: The tale of an adventuring party exploring an abandoned mine, only to find that it's not as abandoned as they thought. Chapter 2 is up.
1. Guild of Heroes

Guild of Heroes  
  
The adventuring party's footfalls echoed much too loudly for the rogue's liking. Drake, the halfling rogue, disliked Corran, the clumsy human wizard and the boisterous dwarven fighter who both claimed to be the leader of the party; they made far too much noise. The human monk, Rabid, he did not mind so much. Both moved as quietly as cats, scouting the terrain ahead. So far the terrain had proved to be nothing but miles of empty mine shaft delving ever-deeper into the earth's roots.  
  
"Now this is where a true warrior is made" Berrant of Lockerhelm, the dwarf, boasted, "none of you silly humans or halflings would last a minute down here. Enormous purple worms! Ambushes of hobgoblins! It takes a true dwarf to fight off such monstrosities."  
  
"And a true dwarf to attract their attention." Drake muttered under his breath.  
  
Rabid passed him a knowing look, neither of the two warriors cared for brute strength; they both approved of a mind over matter approach.  
  
"Let's move ahead," Rabid suggested, "They won't hear the dwarf if they're dead"  
  
The two scouts moved faster forward, until out of earshot of the dwarf. Their feet not making a sound as they moved across the stone floor. The only sound was that of water dripping. Drake felt a clamping feeling in his stomach, a feeling that rogues get when danger is imminent.  
  
"Quickly, in the shadows!" the halfling whispered.  
  
After having known the rogue for a year, Rabid was used to acting on the halfling's hunches, which were often correct. He pressed his body into a crouching position, ready to spring up and fight if the need be, slowly edging back into the shadows. Their eyes scanned the darkness, trying to see the approaching enemy. Rabid gestured to Drake, and they slowly crept forward, alert and ready. Rabid's heart was beating like a jack-hammer, not even his monk training could stop the trickles of sweat he experienced when preparing for combat. Unexpectedly a giant puff of black smoke filled the mine-shaft. Rabid's reflexes saved him from being immersed completely in the cloud. He could not see how the halfling fared, but he couldn't do much to aid him until the smoke cleared. Out of the murk dove the halfling.  
  
"Run!" Drake cried, "Darkmantles! We can't beat them without the element of surprise, We need to find the others!"  
  
The set off quickly down the passage, Darkmantles floated closely behind, not ready to give up so rare a meal. Never had Rabid been so happy to hear the dwarf's boisterous voice.  
  
"My uncle once slew fifty ogres with his bare hands, Our monk would probably just get stepped on by one. And another time, he fought with a full grown black dragon for fifty days, and after he- what by Moradin's hammer is that!?" he cried, finally noticing the unnatural black cloud foaming up the mine shaft in front of him.  
  
"Darkmantles!" Drake yelled, diving for cover behind the dwarf's stout form "And lots of them."  
  
"What the devil is a Darkmantle?" Berrant asked, trying to pry off the halfling which was now clinging to his leg.  
  
"That!" the halfling pointed to a large black, stalagmite shaped creature hovering three feet above the mine floor. Little tentacles webbed with leathery wing-like membranes kept it aloft.  
  
"That couldn't hurt anybody!" the dwarf shouted, drawing his urgosh, a nasty dwarven weapon meant for slashing, bludgeoning, and even stabbing.  
  
Berrant charged at the beast, the halfling still clutching his leg, while Corran, the party's wizard, prepared a spell. Muttering strange words of the arcane, he slowly drove back the darkness created by the Darkmantles. Rabid turned on the spot, ready to face the beast with the aid of the dwarf. Bellowing a war cry the dwarf swung his urgosh through hard the skin of the first beast, neatly redirecting the stroke to fell the second as well.  
  
"That wasn't so hard, it's like picking dais-" the dwarf's bragging was cut off as one of the Darkmantles dropped off the ceiling, slamming him hard in the head, and latching onto his face with muscular arms.  
  
Rabid reacted with almost precognitive reflexes, his twisted his way from underneath a Darkmantle which had just dried to drop onto him, and dived towards the flailing fighter. One solid hit from the monk's palm stunned the creature long enough for the dwarf to throw it off of him. By now Drake had drawn both his kukris, exotic weapons which he had trained with, and became a whirlwind of death, hacking and stabbing using only his wrist's dexterity, rather than his arm's strength. Rabid ducked another creature and kicked it in it's soft underbelly flesh, causing it to sink to the ground. The heroes had so far faired well, sporting only small wounds, and had thinned the numbers of the Darkmantles to three. Corran cast a silence spell on of the Darkmantles, destroying it's echolocation abilities, rendering it blind. Drake dropped another one, with two kukri sized slashes drawing blood from it's tough skin. Finally Berrant dealt a crushing blow to the last one, cleaving through in an attempt to finish the last silenced one. However, the urgosh could not fell the flailing beast, which seemed bent on exacting revenge on the wizard who blinded it. It hummed towards Corran, despite the vain attempts of party members to bring it down or grab hold of it. Corran was already preparing a defensive spell, but the floating creature moved ever closer, preparing to slam it's stony bulk into the wizard's weak frame. Corran finished the last words of his spell just as the impact jarred his body. The magic missile sprouting from his fingers blasted off in a random direction, ripping into one of the tunnel support timbers. A bolt from the halfling's crossbow finally found it's mark before the Darkmantle could strike again, bringing it down with a thud. The ceiling groaned as the damaged supports began to buckle under the impact of the magic missile. Berrant knew the mine shaft could not hold up the weight of the earth above it very long.  
  
"Quickly, up the mine while we still can!" he bellowed.  
  
The party made a desperate dash back, hoping to get past the dust and rubble flooding in from above them. The monk knew he could make it, but would not abandon the slower halfling and the dwarf. He was paused on the threshold of this though as a large chunk of rock fell through, and thanks to his monk's sixth sense, he hurled himself out of the way.  
  
"We'll never make it!" he yelled, "down the tunnel! Fast!"  
  
The party dashed away from the collapsing rubble as tons of earth pressed down on the weakened structure like a giant's finger on a piece of straw. The party's torches extinguished as heavy coats of dust fell from the ceiling, and the party was plunged into darkness. The last thing to be heard before they drifted into the inky blackness of the unconscious was the bewildered voice of the dwarf.  
  
"If we were in a dwarf mine this never would have happened!" 


	2. Into the Darkness

Into the Darkness  
  
Berrant wheezed, there was great quantity of dust caught in his throat. He heard whispering voices, then silence. Everything was in pitch black. He moved to wipe his forehead, when he realized that his hands and feet were bound. The dwarf, perhaps not the most intelligent fighter, was now very angry.  
  
"Moradin's Hammer! Where in his great brown earth am I?" he asked, almost to himself.  
  
"Quiet stunty! We will tell you only what we wish!" Guttural voices screeched in common.  
  
At the edge of his dark-vision he could see five goblins, talking in a hushed huddle. Luckily Berrant spoke bit Orc and Goblin, although he couldn't hear them speak, he tried to piece together sentences through reading lips.  
  
"Found him... half-dead...dark...blood...prisoner" said one.  
  
It was then that Berrant noticed the blood oozing down his forehead. This was just getting worse. He continued his lip reading attempt.  
  
"What do... do!?" one shouted.  
  
The guttural goblin language was difficult enough to understand when you heard it. Berrant could only decipher pieces of it.  
  
"Kill... food!" another replied.  
  
"Flesh tough...covered...dust...blood!" the first one seemed angry.  
  
A cough from the largest goblin silenced the group, he appeared to be the leader. "We send... Gruusmsh... gain favour...One-Eye!"  
  
The other goblins yelped in agreement, merely the sound of those shrieks sent shivers down Berrant's spine. He struggled with his bonds, if only he agile like that blasted halfling! He finally decided on his usual conclusion which often fit any situation. This, like every other situation he had ever faced, required brute strength. He steeled his body, squinted his eyes and began to strain against the bond. The veins in his neck bulged blue, a low grunt emanated from his throat. The coarse ropes of the goblins began to stretch. The dwarf pulled harder. Slowly his bond's split, the goblins in the far off circle did not seemed to notice, he would use this to his advantage. He took in his surroundings. He was in a large cave, littered with animal corpses and furs piled into what appeared to be a giant bed, the goblins probably lived here. He could see his urgosh lying discarded in the corner of the cave. He quickly untied his feet bindings, and a miracle for a dwarf, slowly made his way towards the urgosh. His heart beat wildly, he was sure it's sound, which was throbbing unabatedly in his ears, could be heard for miles. Still, he stepped carefully towards his goal. He was ten feet, five feet. He could almost reach it, his fingers grasped for it's handle when a high voice piped up.  
  
"Hey, where's the stunty!?"  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
The waves of blackness slowly faded away like the ebbing of a great black ocean. Something hurt, a throbbing pain in his lower chest. Rabid groaned. He opened his eyes. and groaned again. He couldn't see; he was either struck blind, or lost in the pitch black without a torch, neither sounded very promising. He took a minute to take in his surroundings, he was facing downhill, he knew that from the sound of water trickling down the gentle slope. He knew that the uphill passage was blocked by that massive cave-in. He could not remember, how long had he been lying here? His chest heaved painfully.  
  
"Blood and ashes!" he muttered beneath his breath, "the bloody dwarf is only quiet when you want to find him!"  
  
With no other choice he started to head downhill, hoping to come across another from the party, there was strength in numbers. There couldn't be many places to go in a one-way mine. His chest gave a painful throb which sent Rabid keeling to his knees, he groped at his chest, and groaned for the third time in a minute. His chest was a mass of blood. A large piece of slate had imbedded itself there. Wee-Jas smiled not on him today. He whispered a quick prayer to her, followed quickly by a curse as pulled the hunk of granite from his chest. He untied the piece of cloth which wound it's way up his leg, ending at his loose breeches, and wrapped it around the gushing wound. He couldn't do much to tend to it in the dark. He continued forth, moving as quietly but quickly as possible. His toe stubbed something in the dark, and he was flipped head over heels, he caught himself in a handstand, and flipped back to his feet, wheeling. Something groaned, a familiar sound to him by now.  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
Corran had just been ripped from a pleasant dream, he rolled over groaning, someone had just kicked him in the chest.  
  
"Where the bloody hell am I?" he muttered.  
  
"Where you wish you weren't" he heard a crisp reply from the darkness.  
  
Something reached out from the darkness and pulled him to his feet..  
  
"Are you alright?" the voice inquired.  
  
"Oh Rabid, thank Boccob!" Corran finally recognized the voice, "what happened, I just remember, darkness, the Darkmantles came, then ceiling was caving in, then more darkness" Corran raced through his shattered memory, trying to discover what had happened.  
  
Rabid looked at him concernedly, "You have taken a blow to the head, you cannot remember properly." Corran felt someone wrap a bandage around his head. Corran was still reeling in shock, he had not felt the blood coming from his head.  
  
"Burn me! What happened?" Corran was still struggling to remember.  
  
Rabid finished the bandage "First we need to find out how much memory you lost, sit down."  
  
Corran felt ridiculous speaking to the darkness, he did not trust anything he could not see, smell, and touch. He knew the power that illusions could weave.  
  
"Give me your hand." He demanded.  
  
Rabid recoiled "Don't you trust me?"  
  
Corran desperately groped for his spell components, he was getting more and more nervous.  
  
"Yes, yes I trust you my friend, I'm sorry for offending you."  
  
His hand closed over a bag, he opened it. A trickle of light came from it. He reached inside, finding a small piece of phosphorescent moss, still glowing slightly. Within seconds he had muttered the words to the only spell he could cast with such a component.  
  
"What are you doing fool!?" however this voice was not that of Rabid, it was twisted enraged voice.  
  
Light shot out from Corran's fingertips, revealing everything within several feet him. He blinked at the sight in front of him.  
  
"Blood and ashes!!" he cried.  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
Drake woke groaning. He cursed, he was in what halflings called "perfect darkness". He heard a voice.  
  
"It's funny thing these days, that people leave their things lying around."  
  
An arm scooped the halfling up.  
  
"It's also funny how people steal those things without asking" Drake retorted.  
  
Somewhere in the darkness, Rabid laughed.  
  
"Unless I am mistaken, you were to bear the torches?" Rabid inquired.  
  
The halfling reached into his pack, which miraculously had not been lost in the scuffle. He struck flint and steel, and soon had a torch lit. Drake stepped back as the mine shaft flared to life. The oppressive stone walls seemed solid enough, if not drear. When he was not busy hiding from someone from whom he had "borrowed" something, Drake enjoyed flouting flamboyant tunics and leggings. His eyes swept over Rabid.  
  
"Wow, I don't remember that happening!" Drake pointed the large gash in Rabid's chest.  
  
"The funny thing is, neither do I," Rabid laughed "and you seemed to have gotten away unscathed!"  
  
Drake shrugged. "It's part of being a halfling, we have much better reflexes then you clumsy humans."  
  
Truthfully, Drake was just happy to find a friendly face in a black hole like this. A shout was heard echoing up from somewhere far down the tunnel. The echoed like a thunderclap.  
  
"BY MORADIN'S HAMMER!"  
  
"Looks like we found the dwarf!" Drake laughed, drawing his crossbow.  
  
Pushing his beaded hair from his face, Drake slowly made his way down the passage. He was sure there was some old adage which warned against it, but nonetheless he handed Rabid the torch.  
  
"I prefer not to be seen before I can see my enemy. Watch my back"  
  
With that he turned, and moved silently into the swallowing darkness. 


	3. Escape from the Shadow

Escape from the Shadow  
  
Drake crept carefulyl into the darkness ahead, aware of the monk several yards behind him. He tried to meld with the darkness, to wear shadow like a cloak. It was a little trick he had learned from his mentor.  
  
"FOR THE GLORY OF MORADIN!"  
  
The dwarf's war cries echoed through the mine shaft. It was the perfect cover for halfing's stalking. He soon found himself in bowshot of the dwarf. His eyes, capable of seeing in the dark, noticed a pack of goblins scattering under Berrant's charge. One body was already strewn on the floor. He loosed a shaft, catching an unsuspecting goblin through the shoulder blade, dropping it kicking to the floor. The others panicked, and made to run. In the time it took the goblins to react, Berrant had managed to sever the hamstring on the fleeing monstrosities, it fell cursing to the floor. Drake gasped as a large figure bounded noiselessly past from the darkness behind him. Rabid's lithe form streaked past, hurling itself into the midst of the fleeing goblins.  
  
"Blood and ashes! I must be bloody tired, not hearing the blasted monk." Drake berated himself.  
  
He enjoyed watching the monk fight. It was an elaborate dance, twisting and pirouetting amongst enemies. His arms, elbows, knees, head, were all one great weapon, one magnificent piece of art. Rabid struck out, his heel hooking just below the goblins knee, with a sweeping motion, he turned, and ducked, pulling the goblin to the ground and ducking beneath a morning star swing. The dance continued, as Rabid brought up is knee into one of the goblin's chins in a smooth movement which blended into a round-house kick into the next goblin's gut. A quarrel hissed from Drake's crossbow, leaving another goblin on the ground. The last, larger than the rest, was using a rusted long sword to keep Rabid away from him, flailing desparately. The dwarf moved with Rabid, flanking the last goblin.  
  
"Ig chucka bat dego! Gruk daboo gitter!" the goblin sputtered.  
  
"He says there is a treasure nearby, he can show us if we spare him." Berrant translated. "I still say we kill the bugger, he'll probably lead us to more of his kind."  
  
Drake still watched wearily, he loaded his crossbow  
  
"I don't like this. I agree, we should finish him before he tries to pull something."  
  
Drake knew that Rabid did not approve of unnecessary violence, but he also did not approve of goblins.  
  
"Ask him if he's seen the wizard." Rabid suggested, reluctant to kill the creature.  
  
"Gekar ja sidow. Grunk dalla?" Berrant spat the words as if they had made his mouth unclean, he hated goblin.  
  
"Grunk dalla migat! Duntor gown Vilesbane!" the goblin spat back angrily.  
  
The word Vilesbane stood out, Drake was surprised to hear something that he could translate to common, probably a title. Drake's ears twitched as the goblin tensed, he sensed the attack coming. With an angry hiss, the quarrel loosed, catching the goblin in the chest. He stared dumbly at the protruding fletching as he sank to his knees. Red foam dripped from his lips.  
  
"Dellar gik... Vilesbane. Stunty... will... die" he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Drake was surprised to hear common, as guttural as it was.  
  
"What did it say? It didn't sound like any good news."  
  
"He said that the wizard has been killed by Vilesbane, and that we will also receive death from Vilesbane. As to who or what Vilesbane is, I have no flaming clue."  
  
"Berrant, do you have your first aid kit with you, I have been wounded."  
  
Rabid gestured to the blood seeping across the bandage he had applied to his chest. Drake remembered the he had suffered that cut from the collapsing tunnel.  
  
"Unless these dirty buggers took it."  
  
Berrant made his way over to the pile of furs where the goblins had left his gear. They didn't seem to have taken anything. The dwarf donned his breastplate. He dug through his backpack, producing some salves and bandages. He handed them to Rabid, who quickly replaced his bloodied makeshift bandage with a proper one, having first applied a salve.  
  
"We should find that bloody wizard, no doubt he's found Vilesbane and needs our help. Ah, well, just goes to show you should always leave things to a dwarf." Berrant turned down the corridor, "If he's anywhere, it's going to be downhill, the upper passage is blocked."  
  
With that the party made there way down the mineshaft, Berrant bragging in the lead.  
  
- - - - - - - - - -  
  
As Corran's cloak flared from his light spell, the cavern revealed not his friend whom he had expected to be there, but the hulking form of an adolescent green dragon. A large tunnel lead from the dragon's cave into dark reaches where his light could not illuminate.  
  
"Fool wizard, you will die for what you have done!"  
  
The voice was no longer that of Rabid, but a grating voice that belonged to the dragon. Rabid remembered reading that from a young age, green dragons could use ventriloquism, and other magical abilities. However, Corran did not have time to think about what he had or hadn't read. He turned to run, his magic could nothing for the time being. He heard a sharp intake behind him as the dragon drew breath, he hurled himself through the passage and a poisonous cloud filled the passage. The fall jarred him, ripping his tunic at the elbow. He quickly rose, and covered his face with is cloak as the noxious gas filled the tunnel. At least this will give me cover. He reached out a hand managed to find the tunnel wall. Slowly he groped his way along, hoping the dragon would be slow in pursuit, like a cat playing with the mouse. Arrogance was a weapon to be used against your enemies.  
  
"You cannot hide from me fool. You will never escape."  
  
Corran quickly found his way to the end of the gas filled stretch of tunnel. He fumbled through his spell components. Moss, guano, ox hair. If only I hadn't knocked down that bloody support! We'd be alright. The thought struck him, quickly he began to murmur the cryptic arcane words.  
  
"Phelanos domini shirak..."  
  
"You will wish for death before the end" The dragons harsh voice sounded from down the tunnel.  
  
"Enphelos digari, sena..."  
  
"You will crawl on your belly like worm before me, the great Vilesbane" the voice was closing in.  
  
"Detarese... SEDA!"  
  
A spray of sparkling missiles sprouted from his fingers, striking the tunnel's roof. Dust crumbled and flooded the rough stone floor. He turned to run, he knew the dragon would not survive the tons of rock that began to crumble from above. In a dying gasp, the dragon panted, spraying out another gust of green fumes. There was no way for Corran to run, no way to jump aside. He was trapped like a squirrel in a hollow is by a badger. However this squirrel had teeth. He stumbled blindly, his only thoughts were on propelling himself forward. Bright lights danced across his vision, his legs slowly turned to jelly, he stumbled, but could not catch himself. He never felt the rough stone floor before he reached the unconscious, he only felt rough arms catch him, and Berrant's voice.  
  
"...bloody wizard pops out of the mist like that bloody Halfling from the shadows..." 


End file.
